It was tacky and completely superfluous in Micah’s opinion – along with the modern art that decorated the otherwise blank walls – but what did he know? His taste was probably as poor as his bank statements claimed he was.

In fact, there was only one person Micah knew who was filthy rich enough to afford a place like this.

Damon.

The events of last night came flooding back to him.

Unfortunately, Micah wasn’t blessed enough to be the type to black out when he drank too much. No, he tended to remember every humiliating detail of whatever shenanigans he got up to, and last night was no exception.

Watching Tessa and Jasper being completely adorable with each other and trying not to let the bitter jealousy that stewed inside him show.

A frat boy buying him a shot of tequila, and accepting it in a pathetic attempt to make himself feel better.

Damon intervening. (Micah recalled vividly the feeling of the man’s mouth on his neck, tonguing at his exposed clavicle.)

Damon claiming he wanted to “talk” and taking Micah upstairs, where he’d met the man’s sister, Joelle – who was somehow just as attractive and even more intimidating than her brother.

And then the backseat of Damon’s Rolls-Royce.

Micah recalled babbling nonsensically about Christmas trees and candy canes and… mouthing at Damon’s clothed cock like the back alley hooker the man thought he was.

Fuck.

He flopped backward.

Micah was briefly distracted from the mortification he was feeling by the realization that the ceiling of Damon’s bedroom was made entirely of mirror tiles.

Huh. Kinky.

But the distraction didn’t last long. The humiliation was too intense. Micah closed his eyes. “Lord, I’ve lived a good life,” he intoned seriously. “If you are truly as merciful as you claim, surely you will strike me down now instead of making me deal with the frankly bewildering clusterfuck my life as become.”

Nothing happened.

Micah sighed, reopening his eyes. The sun continued to shine mockingly through the massive windows.

Was it really too much to ask for some lightning to come down and smite him where he lay? Now he was going to have to drudge up the fortitude to go out there and face the consequences of his actions – face Damon – like an actual functioning adult.

Honestly, Micah didn’t know what was more embarrassing. That he’d agreed to “talk business” with Damon, fully under the impression that it meant selling his body to the man for a night of passion? Or that he’d somehow failed in closing the deal?

As comfortable as the monstrous bed he was lying in was, Micah couldn’t help but feel a bit pathetic waking up in it alone.

He was briefly distracted by his self-inflicted misery by a buzzing in his pocket. Micah frowned, pulling out his phone and cringing when he saw he had three missed calls and half a dozen missed messages.

He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or guilty to see that all three missed calls were from Tessa when he unlocked his phone, and all but two of the messages were as well. They were all variations of “call me” and “the stress of being your friend is going to put me in premature labor” and “who the fuck is Don?”